


Neither Loved Less

by Winteriscomingforsteve



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Soft Husbands, T’Challa and Everett are husbands, T’Challa just needs some love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 10:57:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13786047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winteriscomingforsteve/pseuds/Winteriscomingforsteve
Summary: T’Challa comes home from an unsuccessful mission; Everett waits.





	Neither Loved Less

Everett was not sleeping. His eyelids were heavy and his muscles ached with the need for rest, but he simply _could not_. It was a day since T’Challa should have returned. He had told Everett that it would just be five days, a fairly short mission wih clear goals. It was day six and Everett was tired. He was tired of worrying, he was sick of sleeping alone, he wanted his husband back in his arms where he was supposed be.

Everett shifted in the cold sheets, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Ross?” The complex communication system next to the bed sprung to life with the voice of its creator.

“Shuri?” Everett’s voice was gruff; he cleared his throat and sat up, letting the sheets pool at his waist. His heart rate grew faster and he hastily waved at the lamp attempting to turn it on. Was it about T’Challa?

“Yes idiot, it is me.” Shuri sassed. Everett was used to it and normally he would laugh, but this time his worry was distracting him.

“What’s wrong? Where’s T’Challa?” Everett’s questions were quick and to the point but he knew Shuri would be tolerant of his concern. A lengthy pause told Everett what he needed to know.

“T’Challa is home.” Shuri started slowly, “His mission was left incomplete. He came away with several lacerations, none of which are serious, and a minor concussion.” She paused as if she knew Everett was holding his breath and completely losing his shit despite his prolonged silence. “Ross... you must be gentle with him. He doesn’t like to walk away without a solution. He needs you more than ever now.”

“Oh Gods I — you know I’ll be gentle. He’s my husband, Shuri.” Everett almost let out a sigh of relief, but he knew how T’Challa felt about being unable to fulfill his mission. As King, he prided himself deeply in his ability to reach resolutions and when this didn’t happen, he often would doubt his own abilities to facilitate peace.

“I trust you.” It was a rarity that Shuri exchanged such sure words with Everett. “He will be coming to your chamber shortly after his stitches are finished.”

“Thank you Shuri”

Five minutes of messing with the temperature controls, moving the clutter from the floor, and lighting scented candles found Everett back on the bed and waiting less than patiently. His heart raced purely for T’Challa. The man deserved better than what he received sometimes. He was a King with a good heart and intentions. These things, however, did not always translate so easily when he was involved in a fight.

Everett’s thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the door to the bedchamber. Everett abruptly tore his eyes from the wooden floor and locked his eyes on his returned husband.

T’Challa stood in just a pair of dark pants and a robe, his upper half laced with several white bandages that were taped to his skin. His appearance was sullen. His eyes were cast downward and his face reflected a sort of internalized pain and dissatisfaction. He stood like a statue, still and with a permanent expression of grief, before slowly moving his eyes up to lock with Everett’s. The latter was off of the bed in a second. He ran and most gently embraced his husband in his arms. T’Challa did not move for a moment almost as though he was stuck in time. Mere seconds of Everett’s hold caused his head to droop down to the crook of Everett’s neck with a cracked whimper.

Everett did not say a word; he knew it would not help. Instead he held on and thought the things T’Challa needed to hear as he rested his face against the man’s head. _I love you. You are what I care about._

Everett could feel the hiccups of sorrow course through his T’Challa several times before the King moved his arms to participate in the embrace himself, arms wrapped around torso where they were supposed to be.

“T’Challa?” Everett allowed his hand to smooth down T’Challa’s exposed back underneath the robe. Everett repeated himself and coaxed T’Challa’s face from his own neck a hand pressing upon the bottom of his chin. “Let’s go to the bed, yes?” T’Challa simply nodded and released his grip on Everett who gently thumbed away the tears on his cheeks.

They walked slowly to T’Challa’s side of the bed. T’Challa let Everett remove the robe from his sore torso and climbed into the bed once the layers had been pulled back. Everett rushed to his side of the bed and pushed himself between the sheets.

T’Challa laid on his back and was completely still. His eyes were cast toward the ceiling and his breathing was slow and exhausted. Everett wanted to ask. He wanted to understand T’Challa’s thoughts and his emotions; he wanted to feel T’Challa’s pain to relieve him of it in part. Everett knew better than to ask. His questions could wait until the morning.

Everett instead drew closer to T’Challa’s side and nuzzled his face into the side of his husband’s neck. “T’Challa?” Everett’s voice was soft and he breathed gently against T’Challa’s skin.

“Yes, my love?” These words were soft and fragile.

“I love you.” Everett’s words were sure and loving and he felt his own heart beat for T’Challa as he said them. He knew his husband would understand the connotation. The words were literal but they spoke for the unspoken.

T’Challa’s lips curled into a genuine smile and he turned his face so he could lock eyes with Everett.

“Is that so?” He teased slightly and Everett let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in.

“Yes, my King.” T’Challa purred at the name and shifted so that he could lay with his body blanketing Everett’s own and his head pressed into his husband’s bare chest.

The heat was welcomed by Everett and he leaned down to capture T’Challa’s lips in his own. They moved together perfectly, their eyes closed and mouths hooked together in a soft kiss. T’Challa tasted sweet and like _home_.

“I love you too.” T’Challa broke their kiss to look into Everett’s eyes and then rested his head back down onto the elder man’s chest.

Everett laid completely content in the warm sheets. His husband was home. Maybe he was not perfectly well, but he was home and alive and loved.

They drifted to sleep neither loved less than the other.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Second self-indulgent Everpanther fic hath been completed! Thank you for reading and please do let me know if you find any mistakes. 
> 
> If you have any prompts you would like to see filled for Everpanther short-fics you can message me on Tumblr at blackpantherandchadwick


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